Shades of Gray
by Mrs Pettyfer
Summary: Things are never black and white. Things are very much shades of gray.
1. The Masquerade Ball

****Category: ****Infernal Devices  
><strong><strong>Author:<strong> **Mrs Pettyfer**  
><strong>Title: <strong>**Shades of Gray  
><strong><strong>Pairing(s): <strong>**Tessa/Will and slight Tessa/Jem  
><strong>Genre: <strong>Angst/Romance/Humor  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>AN:** So this is a two-part one shot inspired from the "dirty sexy balcony scene" teaser. So this will contain slight spoilers for Clockwork Prince, but nothing big. The spoiler will simply be who is featured in the DSBS and the small snippet that Cassie shared with the fans. I have not read Clockwork Prince (it comes out SO SOON!) so this story is not exactly canon compliant. Hope you like it!

**NOTE:** All characters and the world of The Infernal Devices belong to Cassandra Clare, not me. Also please do not repost this story and claim as your own anywhere else. I've had ripping issues in the past and would like to refrain from it again. Thank you. :D

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><p>"I believe very strongly that when it comes to desire, when it comes to attraction,<p>

that things are never black and white, things are very much shades of gray." - _Brian Molko_

**Part One: The Masquerade Ball**

Will Herondale was most certainly _not_ going to Benedict Lightwood's masquerade ball.

It wasn't because he didn't have a young lady to escort—he had many offers in that department—or because he had not a thing to wear—which he did—or even because attending Benedict's ball meant being in the same vicinity as his sons and daughter—troubling, but tolerable. The reason was far more severe.

"You are being ridiculous, Will," said Jem, glancing down to adjust his silver cufflinks.

"Not ridiculous at all." Will was lounged back in a chair, wrapped tightly in a quilt, a book in hand that hadn't flipped a page in the past hour. "Quite the contrary, actually. I find it completely improper and I will not jeopardize my reputation for such tedious regulations."

"_Improper_?" Jem turned, arching a delicate silvery brow. The crackling fire cast a pearly glow against his skin, making him almost appear transparent. "Will, it's a _masquerade_ ball. It's only proper to wear a _masquerade_ mask to attend."

"Really?" Will tossed the book aside and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Says who?"

"Says whoever agreed that wearing a masquerade mask was proper for a masquerade ball," said Jem. "Ground breaking, I realize, even for you."

"What if it was agreed that proper was wearing your trousers on your head. Would you do it then, James?"

"If I were attending a ball that called for it, I certainly would."

"What about the toe of a dead man dangling from your neck?" Will asked. "A black cat's tongue?"

"The way your mind works," Jem mused, turning back to the floor length mirror.

"I can't be bothered with your silly ball anyway," said Will, sitting back in his chair. "I have important business to take care of."

"Oh, are you over your illness?" Jem inquired. "Six Fingered Nigel lonely again, is he?"

Will ignored him and checked his pocket watch. "Shouldn't you be running along?"

Jem turned, still adjusting the cuff links. He stared at Will with a gaze that made Will a little uncomfortable. Will shifted in his seat and tightened the quilt around himself protectively.

"You smell," Jem said, at last. "Terribly."

"Do I?" Will blinked and took an invulnerable sniff. He winced.

Jem sighed. "You haven't left this room in days, Will."

"I am ill."

"Mentally, most likely," Jem agreed. "But physically, you are not. I insist you must get out before you contaminate my room with your filthiness."

"You insist?"

"I do."

Will waved him off. "Uninterested."

Jem made an annoyed sound. "This is my room—"

"I thought we agreed this was _our_ room, now," Will interrupted.

"No, _you_ agreed," Jem pointed out. "And I have half a mind to beg Charlotte to reconsider our agreement or find me a new roommate."

"James," said Will, his tone taking on a much softer note that he reserved for his _parabatai_. "After what happened—"

"I know." Jem held up a white gloved hand. "I know it's getting worse and precautions are being made. Why you must insist on scrutinizing me like a watch dog is beyond me, however. I'm not going to keel over and die right now."

A knock at the door sliced through Will's reply. Jem finished adjusting his shirt before opening the door. Sophie entered in garbs of ivory, carrying a delicate silver tea tray. The scarring on her face was hidden in the dim light. She reserved a shy, tiny smile for Jem, but when she looked at Will, it was pure loathing.

Will grinned at her. "How very kind of you, my dear Sophie, to bring me tea on my sickbed," he said.

"Not a person in this Institute believes you are ill," Jem insisted. He strode to the mirror and started fastening a silver mask across his eyes, the color matching the exact shade of his hair.

"Tea, Mr. Herondale?" Sophie asked, through gritted teeth, which only made Will grin wider.

"Did you poison it, Sophie?"

"Don't need to," she said, setting the tray down forcefully on the small table in front of Will. "There's enough of that running through your veins already."

She gave Jem a small bow and scurried out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Jem slipped on a white frock coat, the last piece of his attire. He was wearing an array of whites and silver, not at all contrasting to his silver features and pale face. It wasn't unappealing however, but cloaked him in a veil of goodness and purity. That was how Jem was, though. Good and pure.

_Unlike me_, Will thought. Sophie wasn't far from the mark with her comment.

"Did Jessie finally convince you to escort her, then?" Will asked, deciding he _was_ going to read his book after all. He flipped back to the front page.

"No," said Jem. "I believe Gabriel Lightwood's offer appealed to her more."

Will snorted, not at all surprised by this change of development. "A fine pair they'd make," he commented. "You are going alone, then? How very sad, James."

"No again," said Jem, turning from the mirror to snatch up his cane. "I offered to escort Tessa, considering she will feel very out of place if she is alone. I quite enjoy her company, as well."

"Tessa?" Will sat up, tossing the book aside with no inclination of ever picking it up again. "She is not Nephilim."

"All residents of the Institute were invited," said Jem, reasonably. He gave Will a pointed, sidelong glance. "If you bothered to spend any time with the rest of us around the Institute you'd know this. You think I haven't noticed that you eat breakfast before everyone else rises and dinner when everyone is asleep? I have no idea if you even bother with lunch."

Will appeared most scandalized. "I've been ill," he defended, clutching his chest for emphasis. He gave a very pitiful cough that Jem tactfully ignored.

"And last week?"

"Devious affairs," said Will, "that do not bear repeating, for any reason. Ever."

"And the weeks before?"

"Touring London."

Jem gave him a very dry look. "Touring London," he repeated, equally as dryly.

"One can never be properly acquainted with such a marvelous city."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were avoiding the Institute," said Jem, "or possibly those residing _in it_."

Will's expression was carefully blank, and his voice came out a little hard. "Good thing you know better, then."

Jem sighed, a very weary gesture. He had taken a little extra medicine for the evening, and Will thought he looked quite well. There was a light blemish to his cheeks, a little color to his eyes.

"All this running makes me tired," said Jem, "and I'm not even the one running."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means." Jem withdrew a thick, ivory piece of parchment from the inside of his robes and tossed into Will's lap. "In case you change your mind."

He moved toward the door and paused, a hand resting on the knob. He turned, scrunching up his nose. "And for the Angel's sake, Will, take a shower."

With that he slammed the door, leaving Will utterly alone. Will looked down at the invitation on his lap as though it had personally offended him.

"No," he said, addressing it personally. "You do not tempt me. I'm not going."

* * *

><p>Tessa absolutely and irrevocably hated the color gray, even though that was her last name. Not only did it remind her of wall paint, but it was a murky, nasty sort of color. The kind that couldn't decide if it wanted to be white or black, so instead, it lingered somewhere in the middle. Why couldn't it just make up its mind? Perhaps that was too irrational, because really, she didn't <em>hate<em> gray on the walls. But on her, in the form of a gown? Most definitely. Not only was it a most troubling color, but Jessamine had bought a size too small. Sophie had tried to fix it, but the bodice was far too tight and the fabric too delicate.

"_It's fashionable!_" Jessamine had insisted. Tessa was sure that no fashion was worth barely being able to breathe.

So instead of standing regally and confident like Jessamine—who wore a brilliant red gown that stood out like a sore thumb—Tessa fidgeted, groaned, and made little noises of protest while they waited for Jem, who was taking far longer than anticipated. She was about to convey her worry to Charlotte when he came thundering down the marbled steps of the Institute. He looked ruffled and disheveled, but not at all like it was health related. He was stunning in his all white attire. Mentally, Tessa groaned. They would look ridiculous: one dazzling in white and the other blending in with the walls.

"Finally," Jessamine breathed, looking much inconvenienced. "It would be very improper for a lady to arrive late when she is most expected." She waved her hands at Sophie and—_bless her heart_, Tessa thought—Sophie fanned out the back of Jessamine's gown not for the first time and certainly not the last of the evening.

Sophie was dressed unusually nice, wearing one of Jessamine's finest emerald gowns, her brown curls pinned and falling in loose ringlets down her back. Tessa would have thought it a kind gesture on Jessamine's part had she done it out of the goodness of her heart. But no, Jessamine wanted Sophie to come along and follow her about the Lightwood manor, like a personal maid for the evening. When Sophie said she didn't have a thing to wear that would be appropriate, Jessamine lent her the emerald gown.

"My apologizes for keeping you," said Jem, addressing the group. His eyes lingered on Tessa's a bit longer than anyone else and he gave her a warm smile. "You look lovely, Tessa."

Blushing, she said her thanks.

"Quite alright, Jem," said Charlotte. She had been fanning herself for the past ten minutes, looking slightly uncomfortable under the dark blue gown. Tessa had been so used to seeing Charlotte in Shadowhunter gear lately that it was almost a surprise to see her dress so normal for a lady. The dress nearly swallowed her up, a pile of skirts fanning out around her. Tessa quite liked the color; it reminded her of the sky just before dawn.

"Shall we get going, then?" Henry asked, opening the door to the institute. He seemed ready to get the ball over with as soon as possible. Tessa did not blame him.

"Wait," said a voice from behind.

Tessa's heart did a little twitch, like clockwork malfunctioning, as Will stepped out of the shadows. How long he had been waiting there, she had no idea. He had this odd way of appearing utterly silent, like a ghost drifting through shadow.

"What is it now?" Jessamine complained, shooting Will an irritated look. But he didn't see it. He was staring at Tessa very intently, so intently her cheeks burned.

She looked away. It had been weeks since Will had really looked at her, so long she had almost forgotten the exact shade of his eyes. _Almost_. There was no way someone could forgot the color of Will Herondale's eyes. Deep, dark blue, the color of the North Atlantic at twilight.

When Tessa looked back up, he was still staring at her. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she coughed into her hand.

"Did you forget something, Miss Gray?" Will inquired.

Inwardly, she cringed. So they were back to formalities, were they? _Well_, Tessa thought, _at least he's talking to me_. She couldn't remember the last time he had directly spoken to her. Gabriel Lightwood's training sessions didn't help matters either, since Will's detest for Gabriel was quite mutual. It seemed there wasn't a time when Tessa _wasn't_ arguing with Will over something. It got to the point where she was sure he was angry about something else, but deciding to take it out on her instead of facing the problem head on. She finally told him she didn't want to speak to him at all unless he had something decent to say.

That had been over two weeks ago. Longer, perhaps.

Now, however, Will's words left Tessa feeling a little confused. What had she forgotten? She looked down at herself instinctively, running her hands over the gray skirts, up the laced bodice, to the clockwork angel at her throat, and—

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "My mask, of course! How silly of me to forget it."

Jessamine made an irritated sort of scoff and practically ran Henry out the door, dragging Sophie behind by the wrist. Tessa turned to the rest of their group.

"You go on," she said. "I'll be just a moment."

Jem looked ready to argue but Tessa insisted he help Henry get the carriages ready. Jem complied, being the agreeable man he was, and followed Charlotte and the others out the Institute.

When Tessa lifted her skirts, prepared to make the long trek back to her room, she was quite surprised when Will stepped forward, holding out her mask. He wore a tight smile, his posture very stiff. His rigidness was completely opposite of how he appeared: Disheveled. Tired. Dark shadows under the eyes. Wrinkled clothes.

Tessa thought he looked dreadful for a man she knew was so handsome.

Will motioned for her to turn around with a whirl of his finger. She did, and ever so gently, he placed the glittering silver mask over her eyes, tying it in the back. His fingers weaved through her delicate brown curls. One of his hands lingered on her neck, a finger creating soft shapes against the skin that somehow both burned and enticed Tessa. The softness of his touch felt more intimate than if he had kissed her.

Tessa realized in that moment that she was completely alone with Will, something that had not happened in weeks. The last time she was alone with him—her breath caught. She didn't want to think about the horrible and embarrassing conversation they had on the rooftop of the Institute those many weeks ago.

Will touched her elbow with the lightest touch—as though trying to touch her the least he could possibly get away with—and turned her to face him. His elegant cheekbones looked more hollow than usual, his black hair messy and falling into his eyes, which were still that vibrant shade of blue. _Those never change_, Tessa thought.

"What?" said Will, and she realized with chagrin she must have voiced her thoughts out loud.

Tessa cleared her throat. "Your eyes," she clarified. "Sometimes I think of you as a character of many faces. But your eyes never change."

Will's hand froze—Tessa hadn't even realized it was touching her cheek—and slowly his fingers formed a tight fist, and his hand dropped. The expression on his face made it seem like he was angry with himself, which made little sense.

Straightening, he said, "You ought to run along, Miss Gray."

The use of her Christian name snapped Tessa out of her current haze, back to logic and reality where Will Herondale was not a nice boy.

"Are you sure you won't go, Mr. Herondale?" She said in a clipped tone, more out of politeness than general interest.

"I don't think that would be wise," said Will, stiffly putting his hands into his pockets.

"And why not?"

"Just trust me."

"I'd rather not," Tessa said, before she could stop herself. Hurt and shock flashed across Will's face but it was gone in an instant. Tessa gathered her skirts, deciding she needed to leave right now before things got worse. "Good night, Will."

She rushed out the doors before he could say anything. Only once she was in the safe confines of the carriage and it lolled down the street did Tessa look back, peering through the curtains of the back window. It was too dark to know for sure, but she was almost positive she could see those blue eyes glowing from the door step.

* * *

><p>Benedict Lightwood's manor was not to be trifled with. Twice, Tessa had gotten lost. Considering there was plenty of staff on duty, about a hundred and some Shadowhunters, and a personal escort, that was saying something. Aside from the Institute, Lightwood Manor was the largest structure Tessa had ever visited. The outside was very symmetrical, three stories—made of mostly white brick—with two chimneys, one at each end of the manor. Inside, nearly everything was white marbled, the floors lined with a rich, burgundy carpet.<p>

The ball was held in the Eastern Ballroom; a circular room with white and black tiled floors, an enormous chandelier hanging in the center, catching the light from the fire lit sconces. Servants weaved in and out of the dancing bodies carrying trays of finger food and beverages Tessa did not dare to try. She had been watching a particular Shadowhunter from affair—one that sipped a dark red liquid all too good naturally and now thought he was a circus elephant. She vowed to stay away from the drink herself.

Jem was lost somewhere in the crowd, having been pulled many different directions. He had offered to bring Tessa a beverage. Pink lemonade, he had said. Not that dreadful drink that turned even the upmost respected men and women into circus elephants.

So now she was waiting patiently, but Jem had been gone for awhile, nearly ten or fifteen minutes. Perhaps he had run into an acquaintance? He was well known, of course, and very amiable. Charlotte was too busy trying to speak to everyone in the room, reassuring their confidence in her as head of the Institute. Poor Henry was miserably trailing along, looking like a lost puppy. Tessa could spot Jessamine from where she stood—that red gown was hard to miss—chatting with a handsome man that was _not_ Gabriel. Sophie stood dutifully at her side.

Tessa wished she could speak with either of them, even Jessamine, but they were buried too far in the crowd for her liking.

So instead, she continued waiting for Jem on the edge of the room, trying to ignore the occasional stares she received from the Shadowhunters. Even though her gown had many skirts and layers, it was tight around the waist, so very tight she could hardly breathe. Jessamine had lent her a matching fan, one that was making quite good use for the evening.

"Might I ask your hand for the next set, Miss Gray?"

Tessa turned in surprise at the familiar voice. Standing in a dark purple suit with an elaborate matching top hat was none other than Magnus Bane. His gold-green cat eyes glittered in amusement as he extended a gleaming hand that wore several gold rings. Tessa thought he looked very normal tonight, unlike his usual eccentric dress code. Well, as normal as Magnus Bane ever was, that is.

Tessa gave him her hand without hesitation. "I didn't realize you were coming, Magnus."

"Neither did the Lightwoods," he said, grinning. "Pity they don't bother with better security."

"Will you get into trouble?" Tessa asked, alarmed.

"It wouldn't be a party without a little trouble," was Magnus's simply reply. He led them onto the dance floor, just as the band changed tempo into something very traditional.

Tessa took her place opposite of Magnus, forming a line with the other ladies. The music began and she was moving. Aunt Harriet had taught her many formal dances—because a lady should always know how to dance—so she kept up with Magnus quite well. He wore a peacock colored mask with feathers and all, making him quite hard to miss amongst the dancing bodies. For such a tall man, Magnus moved with grace, the steps very natural, like he had done it many times before. Tessa wondered, not for the first time, how old the warlock really was.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Magnus asked, a few minutes into the dance.

Tessa was relieved to talk. All the other couples danced mostly in silence, and she found it all too odd.

"It's…a little crowded for my taste," she said.

"Nephilim," Magnus mused, catching her hand and leading them down the promenade. "They like their formalities."

"I'm here to support Charlotte," said Tessa. "Anything she needs to keep the Institute."

"I as well." Magnus's eye seemed to catch on something just over her shoulder. "A pleasure it has been, Miss Gray."

Tessa was very confused when she kept with the dance, turning her back on him to weave through the other gentlemen. The dance was about halfway through, and when she turned back to face Magnus, she had a new partner. A black gloved hand was extended, seeking silent permission to continue the dance. The rest of the couples moved around Tessa like she was not there. Though her partner wore all black and a black mask, those eyes were hard to conceal.

"Will," Tessa breathed, as shocked as if it was Mortmain before her.

He said nothing as she placed her hand into his. They moved about the room, following the dance. Once, Tessa made eye contact with Jem, as he stood on the outskirts of the dance floor chatting with Henry. She couldn't read Jem's face, but thought it looked mildly amused.

"What changed your mind?" Tessa asked. "I thought you were ill."

She was both relieved and surprised she found her voice. Will was breathtaking in his solid black ensemble. He had cleaned up for the occasion, no longer looking ragged and unwell. His hair was still a black mess, but tidier, clean, falling across the top of his mask. When they stepped very close, Tessa smelt sweat and rust, and only at this distance did she see a light perspiration along his exposed neck.

"Is—did you _run_ here?" she added, gasping.

"Aren't you full of questions," Will mused. "And here I thought we could enjoy the moment in silence."

"Will…"

"But that wouldn't be very much like you, would it? No, you can hardly keep from speaking in moments of silence."

"Tell me you didn't run here, Will," Tessa persisted.

"I did," he said cheerfully. For some reason this pleased him very much. "Well, part of the way. I won't bother telling you the rest of the story."

Tessa didn't want to know. The dance ended; the music fading away as the room erupted in applause. Tessa looked at Will and opened her mouth. She felt suddenly like she needed to add something, or find some reason they should continue talking, but she found nothing. It felt as if she were rolling down a hill, grasping for anything that would keep her from falling, but each blade of grass continued to slip through her fingers.

Will was watching her carefully. When she found no sensible reason to stay, she started to turn, but he caught her elbow and leaned in close, speaking low in her ear. "Do you want to go to a _real_ party?"

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for reading; I'd love your input. :D Part two will be up soon.


	2. Cradle Me Gently

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay; had to buy a new laptop and it took awhile to get my stuff transfered! Anyway, thank you for such great feedback on part one. Here is part two! I was watching Titanic while writing this so you can definitely see where it came as inspiration. :P Also, the paragraphs with * belong to Cassandra Clare, as they are snippets from Clockwork Prince's DSBS. :D Enjoy!

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><p>"You cradle me gently Wrapped in your arms...I'm home." - Wrapped in Your Arms, <em>Fireflight<em>

**Part Two: Cradle Me Gently**

"Are we not already?"

"Dear me, you have been deprived." Will laughed at her expression, and then sobered, looking at her very steadily. Another dance had followed, and the two of them stood at the very center, frozen amongst the moving bodies around them. "Perhaps the likes of you are not suitable for such festivities."

"Is that a challenge, Mr. Herondale?"

Will grinned.

Tessa looked longingly at the double doors that led out of the ballroom. She was waiting for a reason to leave ever since she had arrived. She felt out of place in this stuffy room of Shadowhunters, ignoring their leers and whispers. Jem had been wonderful company but Tessa felt like a burden to him. He was far too polite to ever admit if he was having an indecent time. She had only danced two sets with him, though, and felt guilty to be leaving him behind.

"What of Jem and the others?" Tessa asked.

"I think they'll manage without us," Will said, looking past her shoulder.

She followed his gaze and saw Charlotte and Henry staring in puzzlement in their direction, though the puzzlement was clearly over Will's sudden appearance. Jem stood close to Henry, also watching, but not puzzled at all. Curious, even.

For some reason, Tessa's heart was beating very fast. She looked back at the double doors and felt a tinge of recklessness, something she hadn't felt for a very long time. Will was watching her in silent calculation and debate, as though some inner turmoil was eating him inside, and that maybe he regretted his forwardness. He seemed ready to take back his offer, like he had voiced the idea too quickly without much thought.

Throwing caution to the wind, Tessa grabbed him by the wrist and before she could stop herself, they were running out of the ballroom.

* * *

><p>The <em>real<em> party, as Will had mentioned, was located in downtown London. Ignoring Tessa's protests, he had taken one of the Lightwood's carriages, claiming Benedict had enough of them that he wouldn't even notice its absence. Will drove the carriage and Tessa sat inside on a red velvety cushion, her head hanging out the tiny window as she took in the lights of the city at night.

When they finally arrived, Will led her into a tall, narrow brick building. Twilight had fallen long ago and the silver gleam of the moonlit windows fell across Will's blue eyes as he knocked at the door. A moment later a doorman answered, gave Will an incredulous look, and opened the door with an exchange of words that Tessa could not catch.

The inside of the building was, what Tessa would say, Nate's territory. Loud, thundering music came from a band in the corner. While Benedict's band was very formal in black and white matching suits, these men were shabbily dressed, perched on barrels of whiskey, smacking drums and banjos and playing violins. The dancing—Tessa had never seen before. It was fast and even a little vulgar. The couples were laughing and smiling with every bounce and turn.

Tessa looked down at herself and immediately felt overdressed. Most of the dancing couples wore plain, simple outfits and dresses. Some were patched and ragged, clothes mismatched. Tessa was definitely overdressed in her formal, annoyingly gray, gown. But there was nothing to be done of it now.

Three green carpeted-tables sat at the back of the room, men playing cards and gambling their money away. These men seemed to be dressed a bit fancier, more like the attire Tessa had seen at Benedict's ball. Scarcely dressed maidens skipped about the room, carrying trays of what looked like beer and whisky, offering them up to anyone that leered at them long enough.

It didn't take long for Tessa to realize that Will was very known by those in the tavern. Many stopped him for a quick chat; some stared at him in annoyance or anger. As they moved through the smoke-filled room, Tessa saw a tall, sanguine figure with horns leering at her from the corner. She hurried up to Will, now realizing this tavern was not filled with just mundanes—as the Shadowhunters called them—but warlocks and vampires and werewolves. Downworlders. There were Shadowhunters, too, their inked skin easy to peg them out, but not nearly as many.

What surprised Tessa most was the fact that despite all of this, she was not afraid. If anything, she felt more comfortable than she had at Benedict's ball. Another pleasant surprise. Maybe it was because no one was staring at her like she was a monster. No one paid much attention to her at all, actually. She passed a group of vampires huddled around a game of cards and a warlock smoking a long, narrow pipe, puffing out a bluish-green smoke.

"What is this place?" Tessa asked, once Will had found an empty table. It was not entirely proper for a young lady to venture out with a young man like this, but Tessa was too curious to bother with it. And there were other women here, too, and they seemed happy and fine. The magical world was very different from the mundane one, Tessa was finding.

"The Devil's Tavern," Will answered, winking at a passing vampire who bore a striking resemblance to Camille Belcourt. "Doesn't matter who you are or what you are in this hellhole."

"Are you teasing me?"

Will looked at her then, face serious. "No, Miss Gray." He reached out and touched the edge of her mask. "Here, you don't have to worry about hiding behind a mask. No one will think of you any differently."

Tessa opened her mouth and then closed it. What to say to that?

"Now," said Will, his serious expression washing away like the tide, "I want to show you something."

Tessa spent the next hour laughing, clapping, and enjoying the life around her. She could not believe Downworlder's were so entertaining! Ever since she had gotten to London, she had been around Shadowhunters, with the exception of de Quincey and his group of vampires. She did not think highly of the lot of them, Downworlder's, and now found herself quite surprised. They really weren't all bad, she thought, a little sadly.

Will kept her wildly amused with stories of him and Jem, of their adventures as Shadowhunters before she had come along. To her surprise, he only drank one glass of alcohol, declining anything more from a very putout faerie. The faerie girl was very pretty, Tessa thought, even if she had blue skin and was only about four feet tall. Tessa had never seen a faerie before and had to remind herself to stop staring or she might end up a pile of dust.

She watched Will play cards with a group of warlocks; he even showed her how to play. She had seen Nate play, of course, but he never bothered teaching her, because ladies didn't go around playing cards. But now that Will was showing her, Tessa thought it looked quite fun.

"It's all about reading your opponent," Will said to her, leaning forward in his seat. He pointed a finger at a squat, tiny warlock with cat eyes like Magnus. "What says you, Samuel? Got anything good to offer me?"

Tessa grabbed her tea, took a drink, and realized it was _not_ tea. She made a face and set the glass down with a loud clang. A snicker from over her shoulder made her turn, but no one was staring at her.

"_Faeries like to play tricks_," Will had said. "_Be careful of what you drink or eat_."

Tessa made a mental note not to eat or drink the rest of the night and shoved the glass further away. She really hoped she didn't sprout another head or something.

"Your too cocky, Herondale," said Samuel, in a surprisingly husky voice. "Going to lose all you've got."

"Already lost it." Will laid down his cards. The warlocks around the table groaned as he swept up his winnings. "Can't top that, can you? I'd say sorry but I'm not."

He gave a mock bow and then led Tessa away from the warlocks. "Best not to linger now that they've lost," he said. "Warlocks can be very poor losers."

"I'd say I'd be a very poor loser if I had lost everything too," Tessa reasoned. "Shame on you for taking it all away."

Will paused, looked momentarily stricken, and turned to face her with an odd expression. Tessa thought she might have offended him somehow and prepared to apologize, when he held out a hand. He had discarded his gloves and his mask was pulled up above his eyes. The band had changed songs, something lively and upbeat.

"I'm probably going to regret this later," Will murmured, and indicated his hand with a shake. "Come along."

Tessa just stared at him.

"Come dance with me, Tess." He reached for her wrist even though she hadn't said a word and started to pull her onto the dance floor.

"Will, wait!" she cried desperately. "I—I can't do this."

"We're going to have to get a little closer, I fear," he said. Tessa swore he was hiding a smile. "Like this." A hand went to her lower back, the other gripping one of her own tightly.

Tessa made a sound of protest, embarrassed at such an embrace. She had been watching the other couples dance this way, of course, but she would not dare try it! This type of dancing could not possibly be decent for a lady like herself. What would Aunt Harriet say to this?

Will started moving before she could properly untangle herself, pulling her around the room. They weaved through the other couples, bouncing and jittering all the while.

"I don't know this dance!" Tessa protested, a little panicky. But she was smiling despite it all.

"Neither do I," said Will, looking down at her with a very amused expression.

Tessa started laughing when they bumped into two warlocks and Will offered a very insincere apology. The music was so loud she could hardly think anymore. She continued to laugh with Will, breathing very hard as they moved faster and faster about the room. When the music finally ended, she was completely breathless. She looked up at Will, still smiling.

But his expression was strained, so torn her own smile faded. They stared at each other for a long moment, the rest of the world revolving around them. Will put a hand on her cheek—and then drew back.

"I will return shortly," he said, stepping away from her and out of her grasp. "Wait by the bar. Fannie will make sure nothing eats you."

Fannie, one of the barmaids Tessa had met, seemed to hear him even over the loudness and looked their way. She was a tall, fierce looking faerie with gold skin and black slitted eyes. Tessa was a little afraid of her, to be honest, but she seemed kind enough.

Will was gone before Tessa realized he was moving. She stood there a moment, getting knocked around by the dancers before making up her mind.

She followed him a few steps behind, up a staircase, past groups of warlocks and vampires that were hanging around on the upstairs landing and to a heavy black door. She paused only a few seconds before opening it. A dimly bit sitting room was unoccupied and Will was standing on the adjoining balcony that overlooked the city. The stars glittered brightly above the vibrantly lit streets and buildings.

For a moment, it was like déjà vu. Tessa remembered the rooftop at the Institute. Remembered Will's horrible words, the way he had pushed her away, the way he had hurt her. Was that about to happen again? He seemed to of let his walls down a little tonight—or more accurately, forgot to put them up. Was he going to hole himself up again?

He stood at the edge of the balcony, hands gripping the rails so tightly the whites of his knuckles shone brightly against the moonlight.

"I thought I told you to wait by the bar." Will didn't turn around, yet somehow seemed to know it was her. She didn't bother keeping quiet anymore and moved to stand next to him.

"I thought I was human and look how that turned out."

Though he still wasn't looking at her, a corner of his mouth curled ever so slightly.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Tessa had been dying to know all night. Jem had taken her on a tour of London, showing her museums and famous sites, but he was kind like that. He would have no other reason but to simply please her. Will…she wasn't so sure. His motives were never clear.

"Because I wanted to."

The reply was so honest and simple that Tessa sucked in a breath. She had been expecting some sort of sarcastic remark or avoidance of answering all together. His response begged another question and she couldn't resist.

"Why?"

His silence spoke volume. Suddenly she was back on the rooftop of the Institute again, back to when he made very clear of his intentions. She felt her cheeks blush and the fragile walls she held up come shattering down.

"I should have know," she said, a tremble in her voice she hoped he could not detect. "You made your intentions quite clear, and tonight is no different. I am only sorry mine are not the same."

*She felt him inhale. "Tess," he said. "Tess, look at me."

She raised her eyes to his, slow and unwilling, braced for anger or coolness—but his gaze was fixed on hers, his dark blue eyes somber beneath their thick black lashes, and they were stripped of all their usual cool, aloof distance. They were as clear as glass and full of desire. And more than desire—a tenderness she had never seen in them before, and had never even associated with Will Herondale. That, more than anything else, stopped her protest as he raised his hands and methodically began to take the pins from her hair, one by one.*

They dropped to the ground, a light _clang_ of metal on stone. Soft brown curls tumbled to Tessa's shoulders. Vaguely she could hear the trotting of horses and carriages riding over cobbled streets, the sounds of late night travelers and a soft hoot of an owl. But all Tessa could think of were those eyes and the only sound that really stood out was her ragged breaths.

Will's touch was gentle as he slowly removed her mask, a finger trailing along her temple. He dropped the mask and it floated to the floor. Every move he made was slow and precise and controlled, like if he moved too quickly the moment would ruin. There was something careful in his expression when his eyes flicked down to hers, something she didn't quite understand.

Tessa's hands moved on their own accord, wrapping around Will's neck. There was an irrational need to be close to him, as though her life depended on it. It was such a consuming feeling, one that took her by surprise. She started to close the distance, her mouth parting open—

*He reached up and unlocked Tessa's hands from around his neck. He drew her gloves off, and they joined her mask and the hairpins on the stone floor of the balcony. He pulled off his own mask next and cast it aside, running his hands through his sweat-dampened hair, pushing it back from his forehead. The lower edge of the mask had left marks across his high cheekbones, like light scars, but when she reached to touch them, he gently caught at her hands and pressed them down.

"No," he said. "Let me touch you first."*

She closed her eyes when his hands cupped her face and he pulled her to him. A small, painful breath escaped him, and Tessa felt it against her own mouth. If it was possible to feel tense and calm at the same time, that was how he felt. She could feel it in his demeanor, in the way he was holding himself, this restrain of coiling power.

And she could barely comply, on the verge of losing control herself.

His mouth crashed down on hers. A surge of pleasure and desire wrapped around her, heat flooding her veins. He drew her closer and her hands clutched at the folds of his jacket, fingers knotting into the fabric. She exhaled in his mouth, her breaths even more uneven than before, a feeling of complete bliss overwhelming her.

Will tensed and started to pull back, but Tessa did not let him. She pushed forward, tightening her hold and he spun her, until her back hit the rail of the balcony. A small cry escaped her. One of his hands snaked around her waist and the other gripped the railing, crushing her body to his.

Now he was kissing her hard, hungrily, even, like he could not quite quench it. She responded eagerly, albeit a little surprised in both herself and him. The barriers were dropped and there was no going back now. Somehow he had shrugged out of his jacket and Tessa's hands pressed into his stomach, fingers gliding over the tight muscles. The black shirt he wore was unbuttoned, an inky rune poking out from the base of his neck. Tessa reached up, her fingers curling the top of the shirt and digging into his throat.

Will caught her wrist and clutched it tightly before she could do any damage to his shirt. His tongue lightly brushed against her lower lip, and he deepened the kiss. Tessa's cheeks flushed. Maybe tomorrow she'd regret kissing him like this; maybe she'd regret it in just a few short hours.

There was nothing about what she felt for Will that made sense: this strange, unyielding desire that could not be doused. He had been horrible to her in the past, and yet she could not deny the desire she felt for him now, even if it would only haunt her in the future. Her feelings for Will were anything but simple and she could not begin to put it into words. If anything, she supposed, her feelings were like a shade of gray. Perhaps she had more in common with that ghastly color than she originally believed.

Maybe gray wasn't so bad, she thought, and smiled into Will's mouth.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So there you have it. :D I'm pretty sure the DSBS will take place AT Benedict's ball but I thought this would be a fun twist. I hope you liked it; Tessa/Will might be my OTP of all of Cassie's books and that says something. Love them. :D I would have liked to have included more of the other characters, but this two part one shot is really focused on Tessa and Will. Thanks for reading and I hope to hear from you!


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